The Death of Caradoc Dearborn
by Ptolemeaus
Summary: Maurader's Era. Caradoc Dearborn was one of the original members of the Order. His body was never found. This will be a multi-chapter story that follows him through various Order missions/ flashbacks and to his eventual demise. Whether that end comes at the hands of the enemy, or as a result of the sickness of soul that plagues his heart like hot tar is so-far undecided.


The wood was rotted and worn, decrepit like so many years had whittled the house down to nothing. No signs of life waited for them. No sound escaped to warn their ears of what they might find inside. Only a sick tapping in his stomach, like a wrench in a machine, told Caradoc that there was danger within. Unnatural magic. It was strong in the air, tasting of malice and anger and blood. His mouth watered thinking about it and he tried desperately to fight the itching in his ankles, the tingling in his toes. The desire to run and keep running until he'd found it's source.

He'd been told to loiter under a streetlamp, to look normal. He brought a cigarette to his mouth and pulled on it heavily, wanting the mess of the night to be over and done with. The longer the war went on- the darker it all got. He remembered the image of that little girl in the hospital- stung up to the muggle fan, skin peeled back from her grinning skull to show off the white bone beneath. There was no forgetting that, and there was no ridding himself of the churning in his gut he felt every single time he thought of it. Intestines bleeding out their contents onto the table below. They were playing with monsters- and he wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine.

It was too warm to be wearing a jacket, but he kept his on anyway, hood pulled over his distinctive curly hair, wand and left hand tucked into his pocket. His watch clicked over to 9:20 pm and he flicked the fag down, stepping on it to kill the burn. _Time to move._

Caradoc walked quickly but cautiously, out of the light of the street and into the shrubbery that surrounded the house. _"Enter on the West side. Wait until ten minutes after the others. Hostage removal only. Don't get caught in the fighting if you can help it." _Moody had cast a spell on his shoes before he'd apparated so his steps made no noise as dried up weeds were crushed underfoot. Burnt by the sun and mostly dead he wondered how the tall brown grass had lasted so long without turning to dust and dirt. Probably by design to keep muggles out. His fingers gripped onto the edge of a high one story window, and bracing himself in case the sill gave out, he pulled his body through the dark hole.

Some sort of glamour gave way.

He was still in an abandoned building, but faint lights could now be seen in the spaces outside of the room he had entered. Whereas from the street it had been completely pitch black.

Car's heart seemed to be pounding in his ears and he took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. It wasn't silent as he had expected. Much in the same way light had been trapped within it seemed noise was also hidden from the outside world. A hum whispered down the hallways and through the rooms, an undercurrent of all things vile and magic. Someone started screaming down the hall- a males voice- and without much thought his body moved towards the sound like gravity. Not forgetting his duty, he checked each room as he went by it for signs of life.

The other order members were in the house already, and though he couldn't see anyone he could hear spells being cast above and below him. _There must be a basement._ Their cover probably immediately blown or tossed to the wind. Caradoc didn't want to be seen if he could help it though that seemed like a pipe dream at best.

He could still see Albus's blue eyes, unamused behind half moon glasses back at headquarters. Voice gentle yet firm. Some hidden knowledge glinting in them, something about Car that he should not know obviously apparent to the old wizard. "_You are going to get yourself killed Caradoc if you keep at your pace. I need you to hang back a bit please."_

It was contrary to every urge that ached through his body but when it came to Dumbledore: he did as he was asked. He knew Albus would want him to avoid wanton danger.

Hostages, he was focusing on finding the hostages.

Car unlocked and turned the rusted handles easily enough, forcing the doors where they wouldn't budge, blocking out the screaming that hadn't yet stopped as he systematically eliminated the other rooms. Moody's voice growled in his head _"Find a method and stick to it or someone will be left behind. Simple as that."_ Chipped paint falling off of chipped plaster. There was an open door up ahead, no doubt the one where the screaming had originated earlier, and through it the shouts of battle could be heard. The only way forward was through and it seemed entering the fray was unavoidable.

_Finally. _


End file.
